A writer and former news editor, I may not have the answers, but I will ask questions.
Why "MuttonChops"? Check out my introduction to the blog: http://muttonchopsbyiris.blogspot.com/2008/06/culling-herd.html

Sunday, January 25, 2009

Twitter tweets

A recent blog regarding Twitter protocol stimulated my small literary repertoire. To re-tweet or not to re-tweet was the question. 'Tis nobler to recognize the author than to forsake the attribute, in my most humble of opinions. Some believe the full statement should be re-posted and others believe the mere mention of said Tweet should satiate the appetite of those that ache to dine on others' crumbs. Though I believe it is wise to not meddle in the affairs of dragons, for I am crunchy and good with ketchup, the stir over retweets can be likened to a tempest in a teapot. As a gesture of homage, I dedicate the following parody to Twitter.

Say over again, and yet once over again,That Tweet thou dost love. Though the words repeatedShould seem "a cuckoo-song," as thou dost tweet it,Remember, never to the Mac or PC,iPhone or SMS, without her cuckoo-strainComes Twitter in all her text completed.Followers, I, amid the tweets greetedBy a doubtful spirit-voice, in that doubt’s painCry, "Speak once more—thou Tweet!" Who can fearToo many posts, though each in sequence shall scroll,Too many following, though each shall read and cheer?Say thou dost Tweet, Tweet, Tweet—tollThe silver iterance!—only minding, Dear,To Re-Tweet me also with honorable intent and toil.

Say over again, and yet once over again,That thou dost love me. Though the word repeatedShould seem "a cuckoo-song," as thou dost treat it,Remember, never to the hill or plain,Valley and wood, without her cuckoo-strainComes the fresh Spring in all her green completed.Belovèd, I, amid the darkness greetedBy a doubtful spirit-voice, in that doubt’s painCry, "Speak once more—thou lovest!" Who can fearToo many stars, though each in heaven shall roll,Too many flowers, though each shall crown the year?Say thou dost love me, love me, love me—tollThe silver iterance!—only minding, Dear,To love me also in silence with thy soul.